Among the Bluebells: Our Spring Sessions in Wenallt Forest
There's a fortnight every spring when the Wenallt turns blue, and if you blink you miss it. This year I didn't blink. I spent it under the trees with families who'd booked in months ago, all of us hoping the flowers would hold and the rain would hold off - and for once, both did.
If you've never stood in a bluebell wood in full colour, it's hard to describe without sounding like I'm exaggerating. The light comes through the canopy in pieces. The ground goes that impossible violet-blue, the kind that never quite photographs the way it looks to your own eyes. And small children, it turns out, are completely unbothered by any of it — which is exactly what makes the photos work.
That's the part I want to talk about, because it's the bit parents worry about most before a session like this.
You don't need your children to behave
Every parent who arrived said some version of the same thing. "I'm so sorry, she's in a mood." "He won't sit still, I don't know what we'll get." "She's refusing to wear the shoes I brought." And every time, I said the same thing back: good. That's what I want.
I don't photograph children sitting still and smiling on command, because that's not what they look like and it's not what you'll want to remember. I photograph them doing what they were going to do anyway - running off down the path, crouching to inspect a stick, point-blank refusing to look at me. The bluebells give them somewhere to run and something to be curious about. My job is simply to be ready. Ready for when they turn around, when they laugh at something their brother did, when they forget I'm there entirely. That's where the real photographs live, and they're always better than anything I could have posed.
What the light does in a bluebell wood
A quick word for the photographers and the curious among you. Woodland light is soft, because the canopy diffuses it, which is wonderful for skin and for mood - nobody's squinting, there are no harsh shadows cutting across little faces. But it's also dappled and forever changing, so a lot of these sessions are about patience: waiting for a child to wander into a pocket of light, or simply working with the gentle, even shade and letting the blue of the flowers do the heavy lifting.
Late afternoon is my favourite time to shoot here. The sun drops low enough to come through the trees sideways, and you get those long shafts of gold cutting across the blue. It's also, conveniently, after most toddlers have had their lunch and their nap - which matters more to a good session than any amount of pretty light ever could.
Why a seasonal session is worth booking ahead
The hard truth about bluebells is that they don't wait for anyone's diary. The window is short, sometimes barely two weeks, and it doesn't fall on the same dates every year, because it depends entirely on the weather through March and April. That's why these sessions sell out before the flowers are even properly out, and why I open the booking as early as I sensibly can.
It's also why I rebuilt the booking side of my website this year. When a seasonal window opens, you can see exactly which slots are free and book the one that suits you there and then - no back-and-forth emails, no waiting to hear whether your preferred time has already gone to someone else. You can pay a deposit to hold your place, spread the cost with Klarna, or pay in full. Whatever works for your month.
What to wear in the woods
Since I'm asked every single time: keep it soft and keep it simple. Muted, earthy tones photograph beautifully against the blue - creams, soft greens, dusky pinks, warm neutrals. Steer clear of big logos and bright primary colours, which pull the eye away from faces. Layers are your friend in a Welsh spring, and proper footwear matters because the ground is often damp. Wellies in the bag, always. And dress your children for comfort over neatness - a child who's warm and unbothered photographs far better than one who's been wrestled into stiff clothes they hate.
And then it's gone
The galleries are all with their families now, delivered through the private online gallery on my site so they can download, share and order prints whenever they like. And the bluebells themselves are already fading back to green, as they always do, as though the whole blue fortnight never happened at all.
But the seasons keep turning, and there's always something coming. The bluebells make way for summer, summer for the golden-leaf chaos of autumn mini sessions, and round it goes. If a woodland morning is something you'd like for next spring, the very best thing you can do is get on my newsletter list - seasonal slots go to that list first, before they're anywhere near Instagram.
Which brings me neatly to the next thing I'm excited about. But that's a story for another post.
